Tides of Honour

by Genevieve Graham

  So now what? He figured what he really needed to do was answer the same questions he’d just thrown at Mick. Which was the better idea: go after Audrey and bring her back, or leave her in the rich comfort of Antoine’s care? If only they’d had more time the night before. If only he could have spent more time reading her eyes before Antoine appeared like a knight in shining armour.

  Damn! Danny stuck his thumb into his mouth and sucked on the spot he’d just hammered. He had to stop thinking like this. It wasn’t helping any.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  For the next week, days came and went, one house rose beside another, and Danny tried every day to move on and forget Audrey. But how could he, when she was part of every breath?

  Then one afternoon she was there. Danny was up high, working on the rafters of one of the new houses. He had taken a break to catch his breath, wiped his brow with the back of one hand, and peered down at the site’s visitors. Planners and reporters came every few days, watching the progress and taking pictures for posterity. Women didn’t come as often. They needed special clearance in order to get into the construction area, and one needed influence to get clearance.

  Audrey climbed out of a big black car in the company of three or four similarly pastel-clad women. They wore large hats that were the style of the day, and Audrey’s brown curls were tucked underneath her wide brim. She didn’t see Danny, so he took the luxury of staring.

  She was the smallest, and she stood back a bit from the main group of women. They pointed and nodded, discussing something inconsequential to Danny. One of the women touched Audrey’s arm and she smiled and nodded agreeably, then turned away again.

  Danny knew what she was seeing, even if no one else did. She was noticing the shapes and expressions of the buildings, the lines and colours. Like the trees and grasses along the Eastern Shore that had always captivated her. Audrey found beauty in everything around her—including him, he thought bitterly. After today she would go back to wherever she was living and recreate this scene, infuse the brush strokes with her emotions. She’d see the neat row of houses, their cottage-style yards and fences, the individual designs they’d given each home. She’d notice the men working, backs to her, concentrating on their work. Would she see him? Would he appear in her art again?

  It became a game. He stared at her, noticing every gesture and expression, and willed her to look at him. If you look up and see me, it means you still love me. It means you want me to bring you home. It was a terrible game to play. If she never looked up, then—

  She glanced sharply to the side and up, locking eyes with Danny’s.

  He stared back, wondering what he should do. If he truly wanted her to live a comfortable life, he should tap the brim of his slouch hat in greeting, then turn back to his work. But he was terrified of doing that. She’d never come after him. She’d be afraid of his temper. And this might be his last chance. Love me, Audrey, he thought. Please love me.

  Her lips moved, and he saw his name. She was thirty feet away when he saw the first teardrop trickle down her cheek.

  What did she see? The cruel man who had broken her heart? Or did she see a man changed, which Danny certainly was. He rarely drank anymore, and never to excess. His insecurities—or most of them at least—had burned to ash inside one of the Richmond houses, just after he’d rescued a little girl from the flames. He had found the three little boys in the collapsed basement, trapped with their dead mother. Every spare moment he’d spent with them, trying to make their lives—and his—a little more bearable. He’d gone to Mick and they’d run that national campaign trying to find homes for all the orphans. It had been his idea, his desire to help that had made it work.

  The truth was, he had done well—and he had done good.

  But Audrey couldn’t possibly know all that about him. Antoine hadn’t even told her Danny was alive.

  Suddenly it seemed Danny’s entire life depended on getting to her, telling her how wrong he’d been, how much he needed her. He reached for the ladder and threw himself onto the rung, his peg leg knocking like an out-of-control clock as he made his way down. He turned to run toward her, and she met him halfway as she always had.

  Neither of them spoke. It was enough to take in each other’s presence in the daylight. So much had changed. In the sun, the darker shade of pink at the side of her face was more obvious, a scar she would bear forever, though the wide-brimmed hat shadowed her disfigurement.

  “Audrey,” he said. “I’ve missed you.”

  She sniffed hard, then hid her mouth behind a delicate hand. Her fingertips were dark, stained by oil paints. He liked that she wasn’t wearing gloves. She nodded, unable to speak. He stepped closer but was afraid to touch her.

  “Can we talk, Audrey? Can I tell you—”

  Her chin quivered, lips pressed tight together for control. Her eyes pleaded, and he hoped he read them right.

  “I’ve changed,” he blurted. “And I’m sorry. So, so sorry.”

  He took another step and dared himself to reach for her hands, now tucked under her arms. She took a deep breath that hitched a couple of times, then lowered trembling fingers onto his palms. He curled his hands around hers, wondering which of them was more nervous.

  “Audrey, I need to tell you that I think I understand your life. You look beautiful and healthy, and, well, except for right now, you look happy. I wouldn’t blame you at all if you decided to stay with him, to live a good life.” She shook her head, but he stopped her. “If you stay with him, you can have whatever you want.” Her cheeks blushed a little, and he hated that. It bolstered him for the next bit, though. “If you come back to me, Audrey, if you come back, I can’t offer anything he can. But . . . but I can tell you no one will ever love you like I do. No one.”

  He became aware that he was squeezing her fingers hard, and he relaxed his grip.

  “Danny—”

  “Wait, Audrey. I gotta tell you. You’ll understand, I think, you with your paints. I’m not saying this for pity, because you know how much I hate that.” They exchanged a cautious smile. “I just need you to know that my life without you is blacks and greys. You took all the colour when you left. And when I thought you were dead, well, I couldn’t see much that would make me want to go on. Then I saw you that night, and ever since then I can’t think straight.”

  “Oh, Danny,” she said quietly. “I am sorry for all your pain. But I’ve been hurting too, you know. For a long time. I have always loved you, and you have always hated yourself. I did what I could, but it was too hard. All you did was hurt yourself and push me away. I can’t live that way any longer.”

  “But you wouldn’t have to,” he said. “I’ve changed.”

  She looked him up and down. “You look well,” she admitted. “Still living rough?”

  He grinned. “Rough, but healthy. And rough for a reason. I work hard, Audrey. I work and I make money, and I do what I can to help.”

  She wasn’t going to make it easy for him, he could see. She gave him a skeptical scowl, but her lips were soft. “And when work is done at the end of the day? What then? The other men come over and drink away your money? You go out to visit the ladies in the taverns and get home in time to go to work? What kind of life is that? Yes, I’ve lived well these past few months, just like you say. I’ve lived with people who like to talk about art and music, not just pretty girls, or which man is the strongest. These people like me. They value what I do. They make me feel . . . special.”

  He was losing. He could feel it in the urgency of her words. No, no, no. She couldn’t leave him again.

  She swallowed hard, and her eyes bored into his. “You and I, we aren’t the same people we were, Danny. Neither of us. I’m not the same innocent young farm girl you married.”

  “You are, Audrey. You’re good and sweet and full of life. You’re everything. Don’t push me away.”

  Her eye
s darted to the side, and she bit her lower lip. “I . . .”

  “What? What has you . . . Oh. Antoine.” She nodded, and he swallowed his pride. “Does he love you, Audrey?” he asked, his voice gruff. “Would he die for you? Because I would. I would give everything I had if I knew I could have you with me.” He tucked one finger under her chin and lifted her gaze to his. “Look at me, Audrey. Tell me you love him and I’ll walk away. I’ll never bother you again. I’ll leave the city and disappear. Tell me that.”

  Tears spilled over her cheeks again, but she didn’t hesitate. “I have only ever loved you, Danny.”

  A woman approached from behind. Danny saw her come closer, observing him with wary eyes. “Are you all right, Audrey?” she asked.

  Audrey dropped his hand and whirled toward the woman. “Hello, Catherine. Yes. I’m fine.”

  Catherine squeezed her lips into a tight little circle of distaste. “He’s not bothering you, is he? I’ve seen him, you know. He’s one of those protester types.”

  Danny snorted and held out a hand. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. The name’s Danny. Danny Baker.”

  “Catherine, I’d like you to meet my husband,” Audrey said quietly.

  Catherine took a step back, ignoring his offering. “Really? Well. Isn’t that something. I thought Pierre said your husband was dead.”

  “He did,” Audrey said, looking at the ground.

  “Apparently he was mistaken,” Danny said. “I’m well enough.”

  “So I see,” Catherine said, pointedly looking at his peg. “And you’ve come for your wife? Take her back to . . . wherever you come from? Maybe she can carry one of those signs you folks are so good at carrying.”

  “Actually, I’m working here. And if she comes back with me, it’s up to her.”

  Catherine laughed. A short, derisive sound that raised Danny’s hackles. She wiggled her well-shaped eyebrows. “I have a feeling Audrey won’t be leaving Pierre any time soon.”

  Audrey gasped. “Catherine!”

  “What?” Catherine asked, feigning innocence. “He is your husband. He should be told.”

  Danny became aware of a definite shift in the air. “I should be told what?”

  “You may leave now, Catherine,” Audrey said coolly. “You’ve done enough.”

  The woman gave Danny a smooth smile, then waltzed back toward the other women, all of whom watched with owl-like expressions from a few feet away.

  “I can’t come with you, Danny,” Audrey said.

  “Why not?”

  She took another long breath and blew it out between her lips. He felt it tickle his cheek and couldn’t help inhaling.

  “Because I’m pregnant with Antoine’s baby,” she declared, lifting her chin. “And I’m sure you don’t want to spend your life with a woman who fell into bed with another man as soon as she thought her husband was dead. Especially one who is pregnant.”

  Danny felt dizzy. “You’re going to have a baby?”

  “I am.”

  “And you . . . You won’t come back to me because you think I wouldn’t want you like that?”

  “That’s . . . part of it, yes.”

  Danny tapped the bottom of his peg leg against the ground, trying to think. He fought back the mental image of Antoine on top of Audrey, his black beard scratching the gentle slope of her belly, his thick hands pawing her body. The pain of her betrayal was like nothing he’d ever experienced. Closing over him, suffocating him, leaving him dizzy. But if he wanted her back—and oh, how he wanted her back—he’d have to say just the right thing. Now it was she whose pride hung in the air, and he knew first-hand how heavy that burden was.

  “You thought I was dead,” he reasoned.

  “I did.” Her voice was tiny but brave. Her eyes, though, they were so full of regret he couldn’t stand it. “And I did—” A little sob cut through the words. “I did what I had to do.”

  He swallowed, battling the ache in his throat. He would not cry. Stand up for this woman for once in your life, he thought. Be the man she needs you to be.

  “I could hardly expect you to stop your life. You’re beautiful. Any man would want you,” he managed. “I’ve always thought it was too good to be true, that you loved me.”

  “But I did,” she said, confused.

  “Yeah. That always amazed me. But the thing is, Audrey, I still do. I want you back, and if it means Antoine’s baby comes with you, I’d welcome the little tyke and love it like my own.”

  “No, you wouldn’t,” she said slowly, her eyes narrowed. “You’d always think of Pierre when you saw the baby.”

  Danny blinked hard. “I can’t say I’m not jealous. I’ll never be able to say I’m okay with the thought of you with another man. That’d be a lie. But I do understand. Things happen. And now you’re pregnant. You and I, we were never able to get you pregnant, and I know how bad you wanted to have a kid. You may have trouble believing this, but if I get to be the one to see this baby grow in you, to watch you become a mother, well, yeah. I’d love the baby. Because it would be half you.”

  “But what would your family say?”

  He mustn’t get too excited, but it was difficult to keep hope from lighting his eyes. If she could even think about his family, maybe she’d think about coming back. “They’d be overjoyed to see you,” he assured her with a casual shrug. “They all think you’re dead.”

  “But—”

  “Audrey, you know my family.” Except maybe she didn’t. Maybe she hadn’t contacted them because of the baby, because she’d been so ashamed. “It wouldn’t have mattered to them. They’d love you no matter what.”

  Something changed in her face. At first it was as if she wanted to bring up something else, but she decided against it. In that moment it was as if all the tension in her body suddenly let go. She looked like she had when they’d first met, only more fragile. Very young. Every muscle in his body wanted to hold her tight, take care of her, but he waited. He’d waited this long. He could wait a little longer.

  “Do you think we could go back to Jeddore?” she asked quietly.

  She was so beautiful. So trusting. Like she had been before. Before he’d ruined it all. Now here she was, offering him a chance to save his life.

  “Is the ocean wet?” he asked gently. He’d asked her that same question when she’d first arrived in Canada. When she’d asked if he wanted to take her home.

  “Oh, Danny,” she said, any hesitation in her expression dissolving. Her eyes, dark with misery, filled with tears, and she hiccupped a sob. “I am so sorry.”

  “Not nearly as sorry as I am,” he said. His hand stroked her damp cheek, his thumb smudging away her tears. His fingertips reached the scar on her cheek and she instinctively withdrew, looking embarrassed. He smiled, but kept his fingers on the smooth pink skin, skimming across the scar in a soothing movement.

  “What was it someone very wise once said to me?” he asked, thinking back to a warm, mellow morning, the sunlight pouring through the bedroom window and spilling over his young wife’s face. “Ah yes. I’m touching you because I want to give you pleasure. And it gives me pleasure as well. And your cheek? Scarred or not, I’m touching a part of you that’s still there.”

  He leaned closer, and she met him halfway. Their lips touched, and Danny forgot everything but Audrey. She was his again. He could breathe.

  THIRTY-NINE

  “I have to speak with Pierre,” she said when they stepped apart.

  Danny swallowed his disgust. He was going to have to move past this if he was going to keep her. “What’ll you say to him?”

  Her hesitation was over quickly. “I’ll tell him . . . I’ll tell him he should have told me you were alive. He should have done what he promised he’d do. I’ll remind him that you’re my husband.”

  “He won’t be too happy about all that. What ab
out the baby?”

  Audrey chewed on her lip. It was a new habit he had noticed. She looked almost . . . frightened. “Well, I’ll have to tell him anyway.”

  “What does he say about the baby?”

  She puffed out a breath and looked to the side, avoiding his eyes. “He was quite angry about it, actually. He said he didn’t want any more children. He said—” She scraped one of her boots against the road, uncomfortable, but he kept his eyes on her face. “He said I would become fat and useless like his wife.”

  What an honourable man, Danny thought. “Why did you stay with him, then?”

  Her liquid eyes blinked against the late-afternoon sun. “Where else could I go?”

  “I’m coming with you,” he decided. “I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

  “Oh yes, Danny. Please do.”

  “Tonight?”

  She took a deep breath and shut her eyes. “Yes. Tonight.”

  Danny collected his things and spoke to the foreman, who let him go early. The women with Audrey stared at her with disbelief when she said she wasn’t going back with them. They bustled into the back of their car, exchanging glances and words.

  “I won’t have to tell him much,” Audrey said, sighing. “Catherine and the others will speak with him first.”

  “Maybe you won’t have to go at all.”

  “Of course I will. It’s his baby, after all.”

  “Right,” Danny said quietly, suitably scolded. “But for now, come on along to Mick’s place, will you? I want you to meet him. And I’d like to put on a fresh shirt if we have time.”

  She smiled and went with him. He wanted to wrap his arm around her, where it belonged, but there was still a lingering crevasse between them he couldn’t yet cross. A solid space. He would have to figure out how to get around it.

  Mick was home when they walked in. He came out of the back room looking businesslike and gruff, rolling up his shirt sleeves. He had pulled his newsman’s hat down low, half covering his eye patch so he looked more disreputable than ever. When he caught sight of Audrey, he stopped short and slid off his hat.